


The First Time

by rei_c



Series: Cannibalism Aside (Samn) [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent John, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Extremely Underage, Geniuses, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Knives, M/M, Murder, Naked Cuddling, Prostitute Dean, Prostitution, Twisted, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 00:30:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5436704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rei_c/pseuds/rei_c
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's fourteen the night he makes his first kill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Um. What?

Dean's had the itch all his life, he thinks -- at least since the fire. His fingers twitch and he stares a little too long when someone's bleeding, licks his lips and wonders what it tastes like. 

He's fourteen the night he makes his first kill, some jerk who wanted to take more than Dean was offering. Dad's been gone for three weeks, he only left them money for one, and they're close enough to a city that Dean can hop on the bus, trick all night, and get the first bus back in the morning in time to make Sam breakfast. Dean has strict rules, has stuck to them religiously for years, and when the idiot pushes, Dean turns around and guts him without even thinking. The john's dropped to his knees, gaping at Dean for a handful of silent seconds before he starts making noise. Dean cocks his head, thinks for a moment, and then cuts out the asshole's tongue and severs his vocal cords. 

It's better than he ever thought, the rich, warm blood covering his hands, the smell of it in the air, and when he bends down, licks the blood off the guy's neck at the same time he plunges his knife into the heart, he comes. 

\--

Dean tries to clean up before he goes home; he jogs instead of taking the bus, energy zinging through him and making him manic, feeding him the urge to move, to keep moving, to never stop. There's a creek on the way and Dean washes his hands, scrubs the dried blood off his chin, and practically skips the rest of the way to the small bungalow he and Sam got dumped in. 

Sam's awake and reading on the couch when Dean gets back, even though it's two in the morning. Sam's never slept well; Dean wonders how many times Sam's sat up waiting for him all night and gone back to bed just before Dean got home. 

_Hey_ , Dean says. _Bad dream_?

Sam tilts his head, studies his brother. He always sees so much of Dean, down to his bones and soul, Dean thinks, though Dean's never hidden anything from him. He's never even tried. There are no secrets between people who belong to each other, after all. _You're not fidgeting_ , Sam says. _What did you do_? 

Dean doesn't answer; it's not that he doesn't want to, just that he can't find the words to describe it, can't wrap his mind, much less his mouth, around what happened and how it settled every raging, needy, itching part of him. Sam gets up, takes Dean by the hand, and pulls Dean to the bedroom, starts to undress him. It's silent -- the silence between them is a more constant and comfortable companion than their father -- and Sam's hands trail across Dean's skin, searching, tentative. 

It's when Sam unbuttons Dean's jeans, takes the knife; Dean's breath hitches and all he can think of is the way the blade sunk into that man like butter, the feel of slicing and cutting and stabbing, the taste of blood on his teeth. _I killed someone_ , Dean says. _Gutted him and sawed off his tongue and cut his heart in half. Sammy, I._ He stops, unsure, looks down at Sam.

 _Teach me_ , Sam says, after a moment's thought. 

_I haven't_ , Dean says, stops as Sam finally strips him bare and pulls Dean into bed, kicking off his own pyjamas on the way. They curl up together, legs and arms entwined, skin-to-skin, breath mingling. _This was the first_.

Sam hums, sticks his nose into the hollow of Dean's neck. His hair tickles Dean's nose and suddenly all Dean can think about is Sam, covered in blood, dripping in it, tasting of it. 

_Yeah_ , he says. _We'll learn together, how's that sound_?

 _Good_ , Sam murmurs. He kisses Dean's neck, bites hard at his collarbone, and says, _I'm not too young. Right?_

 _No_ , Dean tells him, pulling Sam as close as he possibly can, thinking of the days when they're both older and taller and stronger, what life will be like, what they'll be able to do. He can't wait. _You're perfect, Sammy._

Sam huffs, then yawns, says, _You are_.

Dean nuzzles his face in Sam's hair, inhales the slight smell of smoke that always seems to follow Sam around, and says, _Sleep, little brother_.


End file.
